


Merlin! Stupid. What?

by TidalDragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M, Fluff, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TidalDragon/pseuds/TidalDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He led an underground rebellion. He basically spat in Voldemort's face. But for Neville Longbottom, some things still don't come easy - namely, talking to the girl he fancies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merlin! Stupid. What?

As I trudged through the thickening snow on High Street, I hunched my already short neck lower, desperately chasing the added warmth the unfolded collar of my Ministry-issued peacoat could provide. Heavy flakes fell around and on me, swirling in the bitter wind that sliced through the frigid night air. Looking to the left, I spared a glance at the massive form of Hogwarts – rebuilt and reopened – and it was hard not to wish I could still snuggle into such a warm bed, secure in the relative innocence of my early adolescence. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the first memory I had of being out of bed this late. Trying to stop Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley was a hopeless task – though it was impossible to realize just _how_ hopeless all that time ago. Still, I looked back on the failure fondly. It had been the first moment at Hogwarts, well truth be told, in _life_ really that I actually felt _brave_.  
  
  
Now people tell me how brave I am every day. Leading the D.A. Taking beatings to protect defenseless first years. Standing up to Voldemort when all seemed lost. It’s funny really, the moments they choose, because they’re the times I couldn’t have felt more terrified. But then that’s the trick isn’t it? Bravery is more a chosen pursuit than a state of mind.  
  
  
Finally, with my hair busy growing a snowdrift atop my head, I made it to my destination. The lights inside The Three Broomsticks gleamed invitingly through the layer of frost that had attached itself to the windows. When my post got tough, I knew comfort was only a short stroll away. I smiled at the revelers inside. It was New Year’s Eve and only thirty minutes ‘til midnight. This time three years ago many of them would have been locked inside their houses afraid their next visitor might be their last. Now they were guzzling Butterbeers and sharing shots of Firewhiskey as they laughed, smiled, and prepared to count down with hundreds of festive friends.  
  
  
Walking around back to the employee entrance, I found the stockroom to be the usual stark contrast. Though the din outside its other door was clearly audible, its smell was musty and its inside dim. Lit by only one ancient lantern, the crates stacked everywhere cast shadows on the dirty stone floor. Slowly, I eased the door shut behind me and inhaled. Weaving through the seemingly endless inventory and between the cobwebs that hung from the lonely rafters, I found the door I needed. Opening just off the far end of the bar, I could enter unnoticed and take my favorite table in the back. For at least a few precious moments, I would be invisible to the masses.  
  
  
Shoving it open however, I heard a feminine gasp of surprise, followed by a thud. Pushing more slowly this time, the door gave way to a sight I hadn’t seen since I’d last walked through the front door in 1999.  
  
  
I was immediately struck by all of her. Her unblemished alabaster skin. Her chocolate brown eyes. Her long blonde hair. I peeked down sheepishly. The perfect…bodice of her dress.  
  
  
“Oh! I…I’m uh…” I started foolishly, trying desperately to assure myself that she would attribute my red face to the bitter cold. “Sorry,” I finished lamely, stepping out of her way.  
  
  
“It’s okay, Neville!” she said happily, striding forward and throwing her arms around me in a hug.  
  
  
Before I could truly relish the moment – her arms around my neck, her perfume slipping deliciously into my nostrils – it was over. I was trying not to panic and she was smiling up at me – that wonderful, sparkling smile – yet again.  
  
  
“Merlin! It’s been…well, it’s been nearly two years now! I thought you were an Auror now. Far too busy catching dark wizards to bother with some simple old pub in Hogsmeade,” she teased.  
  
  
I took the moment to look around me, admiring the way the large roof was held up by so few support beams. The architecture was commonplace, but I still found it something of a marvel.  
  
  
“Yeah,” I offered, running a hand over the back of my head. “We uhh…figured Hogsmeade might be a high value target if there was anyone trying anything, so I got stationed her at the DWP outpost through the holidays. Sort of like a special liaison. Though I don’t think they like me very much,” I rambled.  
  
  
She shot me a quizzical expression before shaking her head and smiling.  
  
  
“High value target? DWP? I thought our code back at Hogwarts was complicated…”  
  
  
Merlin. Why was I using Ministry lingo with her? Why was I even _talking_ about the Ministry. I was boring her. What was Ginny’s advice again?  
  
  
“Yeah…” I said, emitting a low chuckle.  
  
  
Hannah nodded. “Well, it’s good you’re back. You know, for a while anyway.”  
  
  
“Yeah, it’s been nice.” I said lamely.  
  
  
There was a pregnant pause. _What_ was that advice?  
  
  
“Oh!” I exclaimed suddenly. “What brings you to The Three Broomsticks?”  
  
  
She squatted low to pick up a piece of parchment on the floor nearby. She caught my eyes for a moment before immediately looking away, delicately tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
  
“I actually work here,” she said nervously.  
  
  
“You do?” I asked.  
  
  
“Yeah…I mean, I know it’s not much. Ernie says I should try for something better…”  
  
  
Ernie. _That_ name made me bristle.  
  
  
“Does he?”  
  
  
“All the time,” she answered, sounding disappointed. “He’s always insisting I need to take some chances. Show people my marks aren’t the whole story…”  
  
  
“They’re not,” I said quickly.  
  
  
“Well, tell that to the Ministry. Or the Académie Française de Botanique.”  
  
  
“You never said you applied!”  
  
  
“Never saw the point since I didn’t get in,” she grumbled, her face tightening and eyes seeming to darken as she frowned.  
  
  
I didn’t like that look. I wanted to see her smile again. Hear her voice bounce like she’d secretly made my heart over all those hours we’d spent plotting against the Carrows. I opened my mouth to speak.  
  
  
“It’s okay, Neville. I always knew I wasn’t much more than a hard worker. And this is good for me. I’m good at this. I’m good with people.”  
  
  
You’re wrong, I wanted to shout. You’re brilliant. Wonderful. Of course you light up a room, but you’re smart and talented and so much more than you get credit for I wanted to say, holding her close as I reassured her.  
  
  
Instead, I said simply, “Well, it’s good you found a job you like.” Inwardly I groaned. _Not_ empathetic.  
  
  
“Yeah…” she trailed off, giving him a bittersweet half-smile. “Well, I guess I’d better get those drinks Rosmerta needed if I want to keep it. It was good to see you again Neville. Don’t be a stranger.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I traced the lines of the spell with my wand again, watching as the clock appeared on top of the table. 1:30. I yawned and waved it away. I was far too nice to my trainees sometimes. When my stint at the Hogsmeade outpost had become permanent, at first I’d been disappointed. I had spent the last year chasing down dark wizards with Harry in the high crimes rotation. It was dangerous. Scary sometimes, but thrilling. That was what I had signed up for. Not to be the Stage Three Training Supervisor for new recruits.  
  
  
I shook my head. Rosmerta had bolted for the back when I came in and I hadn’t seen her since. Hannah was probably already long since home given the lack of a crowd. I might have to wander over to the Hog’s Head if I couldn’t get a coffee soon.  
  
  
Her dulcet tones interrupted my silent grumbling. “Hey, Neville,” she said warmly. “Miss me?”  
  
  
If only she knew the truth. If only I could tell her. But it was too big of a risk.  
  
  
I chuckled nervously.  
  
  
She gave me a determined little glare, the twinkle of humor in her soft, brown eyes.  
  
  
“You stuffy Ministry types…you’re all the same…”  
  
  
I harrumphed. “I’m no Percy Weasley,” I growled defensively.  
  
  
“Good thing!” she chirped, giggling lightly as amusement danced across her face. “Coffee then?”  
  
  
“Sure. Coffee’s perfect.”  
  
  
A few minutes later I turned around to see her walking toward me, the lantern light gleaming off the mirrored glass behind the old bar lit her hair perfectly. I couldn’t help but notice the subtle, distinctly feminine sway in her hips as she walked toward me. Her smile brightened her face like a sunrise over the Black Lake and I followed her small outstretched arm to the dainty hand holding the plate.  
  
  
“Thanks,” I said quickly, almost before she had even set down the steaming cup.  
  
  
Hannah faked a swoon. “Anything for a _hero_ …”  
  
  
I laughed appreciatively, thankful no one was paying us any attention. She had started the joke when a particularly obnoxious Romilda Vane had tried to chat me up on one of the few occasions I had ventured toward the actual bar. According to Hannah it made quite a sight, me squirming uncomfortably as she touched my arm, or scooted her stool closer against the backdrop of the bar’s bearded regulars, sitting behind us and watching wolfishly as she threw herself in my direction. Romilda, it seemed, had taken the news of Harry’s engagement particularly hard. Desperate for attention, she had dramatically uttered the line at the precise moment a new waitress had shattered a glass. The normally bustling place had been almost silent at the time and before I knew it, the black-haired vixen had bolted in total embarrassment. I supposed I shouldn’t laugh, but it was hard to help.  
  
  
“And there he is again,” Hannah smiled.  
  
  
I half-smiled at her reference.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
 _From the moment I’d entered The Three Broomsticks, Hannah had looked down. First, she appeared incredibly flustered, pages from her notepad fluttering as she took drink orders at the bar. Hannah never used her notepad – she had too good a memory and too strong a commitment to maintaining the mirage of familiarity that all restauranteurs seemed obsessed with cultivating. I watched as she fumbled a shot of Firewhiskey, blushing and apologizing profusely. The patrons in front of her weren’t regulars and exchanged a troubled glance. Since the night wasn’t overly busy, Rosmerta didn’t miss a beat, sending Hannah off to do her most hated task – table duty – with a firm stare._  
  
  
 _Long after the customers had gone, I was still there finishing off my meal._  
  
  
 _“Can I get that for you?” Hannah spat, never looking up._  
  
 _  
“Hey,” I said gently. “Are you alright?”_  
  
 _  
Immediately her skin paled and her brown eyes went wide. “Neville…I’m sorry…”_  
  
 _  
“Never,” I reassured her. “What’s wrong?”_  
  
  
 _“Just table duty.”_  
  
 _  
“I don’t think so.”_  
  
 _  
“Oh really?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow as she pressed the dishrag into her hip._  
  
 _  
“Really. I saw you get assigned.”_  
  
 _  
I watched grimly as her façade broke completely. She sniffed repeatedly before letting out a short cough from inhaling too much of the smoky air. There wouldn’t be any smiles tonight._  
  
  
“It’s…you’re almost done here…I’m sure it’s a long night ahead–“  
  
  
 _“Hannah…”_  
  
 _  
“Honestly, it’s stupid. I’ve seen it coming. I don’t know why I’m upset really.”_  
  
 _  
Instantly I knew._  
  
 _  
Hannah looked up slightly, eyes meeting mine. She frowned sadly and dropped her head heavily to one side before taking a seat on one of the stools._  
  
 _  
“Should you–“_  
  
  
 _“My shift’s over,” she snapped. “Sorry…”_  
  
 _  
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her._  
  
 _  
“Ernie left,” she said plainly, placing her elbows on the table and dropping her chin into her open hands._  
  
 _  
I decided to stay silent, counting the thick slabs of stone that comprised the floor._  
  
  
 _“You know, he said he’d outgrown me. He’s getting higher up in his division now,” she added off-handedly. “And I’m still just…_ here _.”_  
  
  
 _I looked around, searching the knots of wood in the nearby planks of the wall for the words she needed._  
  
 _  
“Here’s not so bad…” I tried._  
  
 _  
“Here’s horrible.”_  
  
 _  
“It only feels that way right now…” I pressed forward._  
  
 _  
Hannah glared. “What would you know about it? You’re an Auror. And famous. Me…people just assume I’m fresh out of school.”_  
  
  
 _“I know plenty. You think this is what I wanted? Getting assigned away from all the action? Everyone in my training class has passed me by.”_  
  
 _  
“You’re a supervisor. That’s a promotion.”_  
  
 _  
“I’m a trainer. Of the people who barely need any more training. They sent me here so parents would feel better that the village right near their kids’ school is getting watched by a familiar face.”_  
  
  
 _Hannah looked away, face flushed in embarrassment. I hadn’t meant for that. I just wanted her to see I understood her. That she wasn’t alone._  
  
 _  
“And you’re trying to tell me it’s not so bad.”_  
  
 _  
I snorted at the irony. “I guess I meant it could be worse.”_  
  
 _  
She nodded._  
  
 _  
I took the last bite of my meat.  
_  
 _“You know,” she said suddenly, “I thought this could maybe be a springboard. After everything went wrong. I still had Ernie…and I thought maybe I’d learn something so one day I’d have my own place. Maybe not this exactly. Maybe a shop…”_  
  
 _  
“You can have anything.”_  
  
 _  
She looked up at me stunned._  
  
 _  
There it was. I was an idiot. I’d switched off my filter for one minute and–_  
  
  
 _“There he is again,” she said, smiling for the first time since I’d entered the pub._  
  
 _  
“Who?”_  
  
 _  
“You. Neville. The one I actually got to know.”_  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Hannah was opening the pub today. I knew because I’d checked with Rosmerta days in advance. She’d looked at me knowingly. Older people always did that. Even now that _I_ was older. They always seemed to see right to the heart of me. I’d been lucky that she’d let me in early. Before Hannah got there to prepare for the day. Before anybody else would be inside to overhear what with the Inn being empty the night before.  
  
  
As I waited to hear the back door open, I walked around the dining area. On the pillars hung pictures of the past. A ribbon-cutting ceremony when Rosmerta’s predecessor, Byron Welby had expanded to a second level for overnight guests. The picture of Harry, Ron, and Hermione raising glasses of Butterbeer that she had gotten when Dennis Creevey was trying to offload his brother’s albums before leaving for the States. Looking up, I saw sunlight filtering in through the rafters, lighting the odd assortment of items she had stuck to the walls higher up. Finally, my eyes settled on the corner by the fireplace that gave the pub its name.  
  
  
Rosmerta had told me the story once. How the original owner, one of the first businessmen to take a chance in Hogsmeade, had once lived in the building. It had started as a tiny house, which a modest inheritance had allowed him to expand. His wife had apparently pressed for a bigger kitchen and he had delivered it and then some, insisting that opening a pub in a village where only a bar existed would be a worthwhile investment. He had left the fireplace that used to be his living room however as a reminder so he never forgot. Each morning, his three sisters would fly in to watch his young children while he and his wife recovered from the late night serving guests. When he awoke, he would always emerge from his bedroom, positioned where the storeroom was now, and smile, finding his children’s smiling faces and the three broomsticks that made it all possible.  
  
  
My reflection was interrupted by the door creaking open. I could hear Hannah busying herself in back, doubtless checking for notes from Rosmerta and tying on her apron before getting started on rolling silverware for the tables and preparing the place’s signature morning coffee brew. Slowly, I made my way back to the bar and sat.  
  
  
She emerged with her back facing me, the dress she had chosen for work hugging her body nicely. I could make out her shoulder blades, tensed and sharp and as she continued out of the stockroom I realized it was because she was lugging something.  
  
  
“Can’t believe I left my bloody wand here last night,” she grumbled, easing her burden onto the ground.  
  
  
As she turned, I saw her face was etched with determination, the rays of sun shining on her skin and giving it a healthy glow. As I raised my head to help give myself a more erect posture, I caught sight of the subtle rosy hue that she took special care to add to her otherwise pale cheeks. Personally, I’d never thought she needed it, but it was always there, and I couldn’t deny that coupled with whatever she had started doing recently to make those kind brown eyes of hers stand out more certainly had a pleasant effect.  
  
  
Finally spotting me seated on the center barstool, she gasped, raising one hand to her mouth and the other to her chest.  
  
  
“Neville! You startled me! How’d you get in here?”  
  
  
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “Rosmerta said I could come in.”  
  
  
Hannah inhaled deeply. “Good grief. Well what do you need? Coffee? Breakfast?”  
  
  
“No. I’m fine.”  
  
  
“Well, I’m busy. I’ve got to get everything ready for the day.”  
  
  
“I know.”  
  
  
She looked at me with a hard curiousness, clearly trying to suss out my reason for being there.  
  
  
“Suit yourself,” she shrugged after a moment.  
  
  
I did, watching her hands move quickly and effortlessly through selecting each set of silverware and rolling it tightly into a perfectly-arranged linen napkin. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she finished.  
  
  
“Alright Neville…” she started warningly. “What are you doing here?”  
  
  
I closed my eyes and breathed. Ginny’s voice echoed in my ears. Finally, for once, her coaching wasn’t going to go out the window – or at least that’s what I told myself.  
  
  
 _Smile_. Check.  
  
  
 _Not awkwardly_. Right.  
  
  
 _Keep your eyes on hers_. Easy.  
  
  
 _Just talk to her about it. You’ve held it in long enough._  
  
  
“Well…I uh…see…”  
  
  
Hannah placed her hands on her hips, eyeing me oddly.  
  
  
I was _annoying_ her. Not good.  
  
  
“It’s that I’ve been…well I’ve been thinking a lot lately and…”  
  
  
“And?”  
  
  
“Well, I uhh…I think you’re beautiful.”  
  
  
Ginny’s voice came unbidden into my head.  
  
  
 _But don’t just blurt it out. That’s overwhelming._  
  
  
Merlin. I couldn’t read her. What was she thinking?  
  
  
“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “That was stupid… _stupid_ …” I muttered.  
  
  
Hannah laughed.  
  
  
What?  
  
  
“I think you’re pretty fit yourself.”  
  
  
Did she?  
  
  
“You do?” I asked, incredulous.  
  
  
Hannah nodded.  
  
  
“Is there anything _more_ I should know? Or are you like those drunks at the bar?” she teased.  
  
  
I gulped. “I’ve wanted to say this for…since back when we were at Hogwarts together I guess. It just…you know it never seemed right and I…there was a war to win. And then you were with Ernie–“  
  
  
She frowned heavily. “I don’t want to hear about him.”  
  
  
“Right. I just meant…I just never thought I’d have a chance. You were so stunning and you were never afraid to put yourself out there and I’m…well I’ve never quite–“  
  
  
“Neville,” Hannah interrupted. “What do you _really_ want to do right now?”  
  
  
“I…”  
  
  
For the first time, I saw it. Or did I just want to? Was it real? Her eyes beckoning me?  
  
  
I left the stool and pushed through the small swiveling door in the middle of the counter. I took a step forward. Her eyes searched mine and I took another step, closing the gap between us. I was so close. Closer than ever. I could see the flecks of brighter brown in her chocolate eyes and her sweet perfume assailed my nostrils. Her words echoed in my ears.  
  
  
 _Neville_ , she’d said. _What do you_ really _want to do right now?_  
  
  
 _What do you_ really _want to do…_  
  
  
Slowly I reached a hand upward. It touched her long blonde hair and I lifted it, the rough surface of my wand hand caressing her neck from the side. _This_ was what I wanted to do.  
  
  
I applied a gentle pressure and she closed her eyes, leaning slightly in the opposite direction of how I now noticed I’d had my head cocked. _This_ was what I’d wanted to do for _so_ long.  
  
  
I reached my other hand upward, cupping the side of her face. I drank in her closeness. Her smoothness, her smell, everything about her.  
  
  
I closed my eyes and let my lips press into hers. It started tenderly at first, but she had asked me what I _wanted_. I wanted more. I wanted passion and she matched it as I confidently claimed her mouth with my second kiss. I wanted to dwell in this place forever as we lost ourselves in the electric moments where our lips connected again and again.  
  
  
Finally, I pulled away, opening my eyes to see hers staring back at me.  
  
  
I couldn’t see the smile I always yearned for on her lips, but it danced in her eyes, brighter than I’d ever seen it.  
  
  
She pulled back further and I drank in her grin.  
  
  
“There he is again,” she said softly, kissing me tenderly entirely of her own accord.  
  
  
And I knew in that moment that the man I was then – the man I always really had been – would never leave again.  
  
  
 **A/N: Well! I had so many different ideas of how this might develop, where to make it go, whose perspective to take, that it was a real wrestling match with myself to get it down. As this was written for a challenge involving a setting (in my case The Three Broomsticks) I also wanted to inject that into the story throughout, without it pulling focus from the overall plot, so hopefully I did that. This is my first time writing pure Neville/Hannah and I’m interested to know what you think. Was the plot believable? Were the characterizations sound? How did you feel about Neville’s nerves resurfacing around Hannah? Did Hannah’s reactions, dialogue, etc., feel right to you? I’d love to hear any of your feedback about this as a purely romantic piece is something different than anything I’ve ever done before either! Thanks for reading!**


End file.
